<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Summer Girl by MarianneGreenleaf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253271">The Summer Girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf'>MarianneGreenleaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Got My Foot Caught in the Door [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Becoming The Mask, Courtship is the best ship, Dance of Romance, Defrosting Ice Queen, Edwardian era, Enemies to Lovers, Epilogue jumps ahead, F/M, Fluff with depth, Ladykiller In Love, Marian is worried about gossip, Missing Scene, Outdoor Mischief, Passion vs Propriety, Picnic tete-a-tete, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Politics, Sexual Repression, Still a conman, Strolling together, Trysting in dreams, Unpacking emotional baggage, Wooing on the Paroo front porch, gorgeous gowns, gymnasium gatherings, heartwarming domesticity, nonstandard format, rumors and things, sweet &amp; low, trouble with a capital t</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold Hill's evolution from callous love 'em and leave 'em cad to devoted husband and father.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harold Hill/Marian Paroo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Got My Foot Caught in the Door [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I came across a really interesting blog post in <a href="https://mrsdaffodildigresses.wordpress.com/2020/08/26/will-you-be-my-summer-girl-1909/">Mrs Daffodil Digresses</a> about the “summer girl,” i.e., a female meant for a temporary seasonal fling. An article published in the Leavenworth Times in 1883 and a short fiction piece published in the New Castle Herald in 1909 extolled the ideal summer girl, and the mindset behind this phenomenon was so fascinating, disgusting, and right along the lines of Harold Hill’s pre-reformation mindset that it inspired the following fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The summer girl is a peculiarly American product, says the Trenton Times. No other soil, so far as known, has ever produced her. She seems to have been discovered several years ago by some college students, and has since been cultivated to a large extent all over the country. She is a very popular creature in certain quarters, possesses undoubted charms and has her advantages. It might not be amiss just now to enumerate a few of her uses.</em><br/>
<em>~The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, introductory paragraph</em></p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Summer 1912</em>
</p><p><em>What a beautiful evening</em>, Harold Hill happily thought to himself as he surveyed his new hunting grounds. And it wasn’t the landscape or the weather he was admiring, though they provided the perfect backdrop for the game afoot. It was the time of day the conman loved best during the summer season: the sun had just set and the breezes were pleasantly cool. These were prime atmospheric conditions for people to be out and about, and so they were.</p><p>Harold watched the residents of River City very carefully in order to glean the essence of their character and habits as they went about their business. While there didn’t seem to be anything particularly distinctive about these Iowans upon first glance, there was nevertheless something indescribably charming about this quintessential American burg. So aloud to his associate Marcellus Washburn, the swindler said, “You sure picked yourself a town!”</p><p>The conversation that followed was largely lost to Harold’s attention, as his clever mind was too busy formulating the ideal scheme for creating a desperate need for a boys’ band among these neck-bowed Hawkeyes. Fortunately, the new pool table at the Pleez-All Billiard Parlor provided ready ammunition, and his stirring speech about the dangers of idleness among youth was just the powder needed to spark a moral panic. As the conman stood atop the statue of Henry Madison with a triumphant grin, surveying the commotion he’d caused, Marcellus’ arms and fingers motioned back and forth in frantic arpeggios – the warning signal for when the musically astute librarian entered the vicinity.</p><p>When Harold’s eyes landed on the blonde marching primly by the town green – <em>her</em> eyes were fixed staunchly on the road ahead of her – his summer was fully booked. To his delight, the maiden-lady librarian wasn’t merely beautiful; she was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. While she might be putting on some rather formidable above-it-all airs now, he knew from long experience that the more straitlaced and standoffish a lady appeared to be in public, the more wild and unrestrained she tended to be between the sheets. It was simply a matter of finding just the right words to crumble those walls of Jericho around her. Given that romance was always sweetest in summertime, the season would deftly assist in his seduction.</p><p>Clambering down from the statue, Harold skedaddled after his latest conquest, his pulse pounding with the thrill of the chase. It <em>was</em> a beautiful evening, indeed. And it would be an even more glorious summer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Convenience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter focuses on events that happened in canon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The summer girl is a good convenience. She does not expect to be fondled and fed on dainties that during the winter. The young man who cultivated her acquaintance knows just when and where to find her. He is not expected to become acquainted with her before strawberry time. She does not display her fairy charms, so to speak, until the cream season is thoroughly ripe. The hammock in which she swings and the perforated sleeves that she wears do not appear before June.</em><br/>
<em>~The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, first body paragraph</em></p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Trouble at the Paroo front door</em>
</p><p>The first time Harold Hill was rejected by Marian Paroo, he was honestly surprised.</p><p>His usual ruses for making the acquaintance of a lady – the dropped handkerchief, the specious claim of previous familiarity – were rejected abruptly and unequivocally. And to compound her refusal, she slammed her door with such bristling coldness that the conman felt a chill run through him despite the warmth of the summer evening.</p><p>Clearly, this was a gal who was wary of seducers, and he couldn’t help but admire her gumption. Not many women had the strength of will to give Harold the brushoff when he turned on the charm. Whatever the maiden-lady librarian’s true proclivities in the bedroom may be, she clearly had <em>standards</em>. And he appreciated that, because it would be all the sweeter when he eventually convinced her to succumb to his advances.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Sincere in Madison Picnic Park</em>
</p><p>The second time Harold Hill was rejected by Marian Paroo, he sort of expected it.</p><p>Once again, he was forced by circumstance to approach her from a subservient station, trailing along in her icy wake as she marched resolutely away from him. This was not a position that Harold liked being in, but he was never a man to let a little adversity and disadvantage keep him from pursuing what he wanted with gusto.</p><p>He did enjoy disconcerting the haughty librarian momentarily when he warmly invited her to call him <em>Professor</em> – from her nonplused expression, she was clearly expecting him to say <em>Harold</em> – but she rallied quickly and denounced both him and his methods with such passionate animosity that it only firmed his resolve to win her over.</p><p>While a lesser man might have been demoralized by such intense loathing aimed in his direction, Harold saw opportunity. The opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. And Miss Paroo was anything but indifferent to him. If he could transform that wonderful passion of hers into love – or at least infatuation – he’d be in.</p><p>If ever there was a fella who could overcome such a daunting challenge, it was certainly him. So the swindler whistled cheerfully while he strolled off in the opposite direction, as if he’d already won.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Marian the Librarian</em>
</p><p>The third time Harold Hill was rejected by Marian Paroo, it was his grandest defeat of all.</p><p>Harold hadn’t won her over, but he’d made a great deal of progress in his campaign – he managed to back the not-so-maiden-lady librarian into a corner and breathe on her glasses just as he told Marcellus he would, and this befuddled her so much that she almost let him kiss her before she snapped back to her senses.</p><p>Given that she was the sadder but wiser girl after all – he was downright thrilled when those gossipy old hens confirmed his suspicions about Miss Paroo – it was only a matter of time before he succeeded in melting her ice-queen facade. Sadder but wiser girls were a specialty of his, and he knew exactly how to breach their defenses. It took a bit more patience and persistence to wear such gals down, but the payoff was well worth the trouble.</p><p>While it was clear that the lovely librarian still loathed him, he’d teased out a genuine glimmer of flustered attraction that was just the ammunition he needed to crumble the foundations of those impenetrable walls surrounding her heart.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Selling in the Paroo back yard</em>
</p><p>The fourth time Harold Hill was rejected by Marian Paroo, he was disheartened but not deterred.</p><p>He’d gotten her kindly Irish mother to like him through ingratiation and flattery, and her allegiance to his cause would help strengthen his esteem with the librarian. Once her reticent little brother laid eyes on his shiny new cornet, he’d be staunchly loyal to the professor, too. (Never mind that the boy wouldn’t learn how to play this instrument properly – the conman made it a point never to think that far ahead, lest he lose his nerve.) Harold planned to deliver Winthrop’s cornet personally, so his headstrong sister would know beyond a doubt that <em>he</em> was the architect of her beloved brother’s joy.</p><p>By the time the Paroo family figured out what Harold truly was, he’d be long gone from River City. Though he knew they would hate him, he still hoped – foolishly, even sentimentally – that Marian would remember their time together with at least a little fondness and delight.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Trading rumors in the Paroo front yard</em>
</p><p>The fifth time Harold Hill was rejected by Marian Paroo, he’d had enough.</p><p>He thought after their friendly and flirtatious conversation in the Candy Kitchen that he’d finally made headway in his summer seduction. But when he tried to seal the deal with the librarian – taking care to wear his best suit and display his most polished manners when he called on her one evening not long afterward – she demurred and shrank from his embrace.</p><p>Harold had never worked so hard to win a woman in his life, and he’d never focused so wholly and intently on a single target for such an extended interval. He’d ignored the longing glances of all the other River City females for <em>weeks</em> now, and for what? So the frosty librarian could alternately resist him with her words and insist him with her glances yet again?</p><p>A man could only humble himself so much in the pursuit of romance, and it was time to leave Miss Paroo to stew in her own self-imposed seclusion. Let her feel the frustration of unfulfilled wanting for once! He could easily find much more willing feminine company to warm his bed, anyhow. Of course, it wouldn’t be nearly as delectable as making love to the librarian, but Harold was so riled up by the anticipation his amorous intentions had kindled in him that he needed to blow off steam. At this point, he was so desperate for release that he’d take it wherever he could find it. In all likelihood, he was going to have to leave River City in the next day or two, and after a summer of steadily simmering desire, he needed <em>some</em> satisfaction before he was forced to endure the cold solitude of being on the lam again.</p><p>But then, as Harold bade the librarian a curt goodnight and started to skedaddle, he heard the most beautiful sound in the world: Marian’s footsteps clambering desperately down the stairs after him, and her anguished voice calling out his name.</p><p>Perhaps it would have been smarter to make her chase him just a little while longer, give her just a little taste of her own medicine before consummating the passion that smoldered between them. But Harold was in no frame of mind to resist her charms, which he discovered were just as potent as his own. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he turned immediately back and found himself staring into the librarian’s eloquent hazel eyes, which were just as eager and desperate as he felt.</p><p>As Harold stood breathlessly face to face with the woman he wanted so badly, all thoughts of finding another companion were knocked right out of his head. As long as he remained in River City, it was Marian Paroo for him, or no one. Even though he still had a little ways to go to earn her trust – something or someone had obviously ruffled the librarian’s feathers about him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it or get tarred and feathered trying – he resolved to himself that he’d never give Marian cause to reject him again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sentimental</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter focuses on moments that occurred in my particular fanon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The Summer girl is sentimental. Having an active existence only during the warm months, it becomes necessary for her to lay in a stock of sentiment during the three months that will last throughout the year. Therefore she is very sweet, very tender, very caressable. The young mail [sic] who claims her for his own for June to September is believed to have a very “soft” time of it. He is supposed in sentimental slang, to have all the hugging and kissing he wants. The Summer girl always has a supply of kisses on hand. It is true some of her kisses are rather stale, having been lent all Winter, but when they are warmed up they pass very readily for fresh ones. The young man who cultivates Summer girls is not very particular what kind of kisses he gets so long as they are the cling kind.<br/>
~</em> <em>The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, second body paragraph</em></p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Sadder but wiser</em>
</p><p>When Harold Hill overheard Marian Paroo enumerating the qualities of her ideal man, he was genuinely unnerved. Sadder but wiser gals weren’t supposed to dream of white knights. They weren’t supposed to want <em>anything</em>… at least, anything other than a good time for a short while, which he could readily provide. The librarian should have been far too canny and cynical to entertain such innocent, girlish fancies. It just didn’t add up.</p><p>Yet here Harold was, spying on Marian through the library’s wide windows and trying to puzzle out the inscrutable paradox she presented. The wistful note of romantic longing that suffused her melodic voice as she conversed with her mother now permeated her gaze. When she dropped her aloof ice queen act, she was somehow even more alluring. This irked him, for reasons he couldn’t quite discern and were probably too dangerous to parse out, even in the privacy of his own mind.</p><p>But he pondered them anyway as he watched her. After their disastrous interlude in her back yard, the conman had honestly started to question whether the librarian was capable of more than a glimmer of sensual feeling for a man. As it turned out, she was indeed, but none of her feelings were for him in particular. Miss Paroo’s imaginary white knight was nothing at all like him, in point of fact, which really shouldn’t have mattered but rankled his masculine pride anyway. Despite the spark of attraction he’d teased out of her earlier, the librarian’s endearingly dreamy expression was <em>not</em> for Harold Hill. And he found himself foolishly, embarrassingly, begrudgingly jealous that there was another fella who had succeeded in touching her mind and heart so deeply… even though it was nothing but an inconsequential chimera of her own invention!</p><p>Harold reassured himself that such unwarranted sentimentality on his part was merely one of the side effects of not being used to any woman, let alone such a gorgeous specimen of femininity, holding out against his ardent advances for so long. When the librarian’s eyes finally met his and he saw that the desire in them was at least partly for him after all, he was ridiculously elated – and firmly convinced that a good romp in the cornfield with her would cure this unsettling malady that had inexplicably taken hold of his senses.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>The rose garden</em>
</p><p>Harold had seen many emotions play across Marian Paroo’s beautiful face in his brief time in River City – anger, disdain, delight, and longing, to name a few. But when he spied the hurt in her eyes as she gazed wistfully at his public display during the picnic commemorating the late Henry Madison, his heart palpitated in an odd staccato rhythm and his stomach lurched uncomfortably.</p><p>It wasn’t right that such an elegant and dazzling woman should be so lonely. Especially when she looked so scrumptious on this occasion, too, in her pink rose-bud gown. She ought to be the belle of the ball surrounded by friends and admirers, rather than lingering resentfully at the edge of the avid crowds that were perpetually drawn to him.</p><p>So instead of ingratiating himself with the mayor or flirting with the town’s most prominent ladies, as he ought to have been doing – as he had <em>planned</em> to do today – Harold found himself spending a good fifteen minutes all by his lonesome scouring the gardens for a rose that was the precise shade of the librarian’s brilliant gown. When he finally located just such a bloom and then spent an additional ten minutes tracking Marian down in an out-of-the-way alcove so he could present his hard-earned gift, he should not have been so disheartened that it – <em>he</em> – was soundly rejected, given that she still despised him.</p><p>But Harold was chagrinned anyway, enough that he squandered the rest of the event dethorning this stubborn flower (he had to soak both hands in Epsom salt that night to stop the stinging), writing the most winning note he could manage with his sore fingers, and chatting up Mrs. Paroo so she would conspiratorially deliver these tokens to her recalcitrant daughter.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Fair warning</em>
</p><p>Harold’s heart beat in that strange syncopated rhythm again the moment he spotted Marian Paroo marching purposefully toward him. He’d been loitering on the sidewalk in front of the library all morning, attempting to scheme his way around the ironclad ban from the premises she’d decreed in recompense for the liberties he’d taken in pursuing her, when she helpfully provided him an opening: if Winthrop took to his cornet, the music professor would be granted entrance to Madison Public Library once more.</p><p>At first, he wasn’t sure exactly where the conversation was going when she opened it, but it quickly became clear Miss Paroo cared so deeply about the boy’s happiness that she was willing to swallow her substantial pride in order to bargain with a man she could barely bring herself to be civil to when in his company. It couldn’t have been easy for her to seek him out like this, and his admiration for her sheer nerve increased. Few women, if any, were as indomitable as Marian Paroo!</p><p>It was quite something to fathom, how much she loved her little brother. The charlatan had only ever loved one person that much in his life – his dear, sainted mother – and she was dead now. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like, but when his eyes met Marian’s he remembered not just what it was to love, but also to be loved in return. And he ached for it, in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to since he learned of his mother’s death.</p><p>Harold had never even gotten to say a proper goodbye – by the time he arrived home, his mother was already dead and buried, and insultingly, too, in a pauper’s grave without even a proper headstone to mark her existence. So he would make damn well sure that his farewell to Marian would be memorable enough to keep him warm on the many cold winter nights that were sure to be in his future.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>An impromptu stroll</em>
</p><p>Harold had seen Marian Paroo smile before, and he appreciated the way it not only lit up her countenance, but transformed her entire personality. She was truly one of the most incandescent women he’d ever beheld, when she smiled. But when he personally delivered her little brother’s cornet and she focused the full force of that sweet beam on him, he wasn’t fully prepared for how much it would addle his rational mind.</p><p>And undo him, it did. When the would-be music professor escorted Miss Paroo back to the library after the Wells Fargo wagon departed, he didn’t try to wheedle his way inside. He didn’t even talk to her during their leisurely stroll to the building. Instead, he found himself simply enjoying her company – another novelty he’d never experienced with an object of his romantic pursuits. He did muster up the gumption to flirt with the flustered librarian once they’d reached their destination – she was gallantly and even skillfully concealing her feelings, but he knew an infatuated woman when he saw one. And it would have been an egregious lapse of opportunity not to take advantage of the new esteem he’d earned in her eyes.</p><p>But even though Harold now had the upper hand, he almost derailed his subtle, steady seduction by getting a little too caught up in the warmth of Marian’s palm as he stroked it with his thumb and the brilliance of her hazel eyes as he stared into them. And so it didn’t occur to the conman until after the librarian closed the double doors on him that he’d forgotten to confirm whether his ban from Madison Public Library had indeed been lifted.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Running into trouble</em>
</p><p>Although every evening in River City had been beautiful weather-wise since his arrival to town – barring the occasional thunderstorm that rolled through – Harold was determined not to waste a single moment in his dogged pursuit of Marian Paroo. So each night, just after the sun set, he made his way toward Madison Public Library, on the off-chance that he would bump into the librarian.</p><p>While the conman had never been a man who felt the need to ask for permission in anything he decided to do, he was not the type of scoundrel to seduce a lady without her express or at least tacit consent of his advances. So even though Miss Paroo had noticeably softened her demeanor toward him of late, he couldn’t shake the mawkish desire to hear it unequivocally from the librarian’s kissable crimson lips that he was welcome to freely enter her domain.</p><p>When Harold rounded a corner and found himself running into Marian in the most literal sense of the phrase, he had to stop himself from tightening his arms around her and kissing her senseless. He was only inches away from those tempting lips, and her breath smelled alluringly of peppermint. She was a lady who maintained scrupulous personal hygiene, and he wanted to bury his face in every curve and crevasse of her, inhaling deeply until he’d memorized her tantalizing scent. And to give her an equally aromatic delight in return, he’d taken care to be even more conscientious in his own grooming than he already was.</p><p>However, Harold did not take his usual nightly bath when he got back to the hotel. He didn’t even change out of his suit. Since he couldn’t kiss Marian just yet, he allowed the faint scent of lavender that clung to his hands, collar, and cuffs to lull him to sleep. It would surely fade by morning, and he could wash up then.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Chemistry</em>
</p><p>Dancing always whetted Harold’s appetite for carnal delights, and he got an awfully enticing portrait of the grace Marian Paroo was capable of when he waltzed with her in the River City High School gymnasium. To his mind, a woman who moved as sensually as she did had to be at least a little bit knowledgeable about the more intimate rhythms in which she could engage with a man between the sheets. Yet the librarian did not flirt with him as they danced, not even covertly. Instead, she persistently gazed at some distant point over his right shoulder for the majority of their interlude. Her eyes, when they finally met his, were not come-hither. On the contrary – her expression was downright apprehensive, even though it was obvious that she was attracted to him.</p><p>Once again, her reticence perplexed the conman. While she certainly knew how to dance – all the false compliments regarding “natural flow of rhythm” and “expression of line and movement” that he’d paid to the preening mayor’s wife applied to the lovely librarian in spades – her demeanor was that of a modest maid who’d never made love to a man before. This ought to have turned him right off, but it just made Marian a fascinating enigma that he was even more eager to unravel. She really was unlike any other woman he’d ever met.</p><p>It was only their second dance together, and Harold was determined it wouldn’t be their last.</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>A long lost cause</em>
</p><p>While Harold could easily attribute his increasingly maudlin thoughts, erratic heart palpitations, and the electric zing that constantly ran through him while in the presence of the librarian as the natural consequences of a lust that had gone too long unfulfilled, he could not explain why, of all the women he’d ever known, Marian Paroo was the only female who filled his mind even when he was insensate. He’d had at least four extraordinarily detailed dreams about the librarian since his arrival to River City, and was aware of several more that he couldn’t recall with enough clarity to summarize upon awakening.</p><p>Ever since he laid eyes on her, Miss Paroo had wormed her way into the deepest recesses of his mind and took root. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t thought of her in at least some capacity – even when he was wholly occupied with the intricacies of carrying out his latest scheme, Marian lingered at the back of his mind, like a sweet symphony playing pleasantly and unobtrusively in the vicinity. Given the highly irregular circumstances of having to get to know a woman before he was allowed to so much as gently brush her lips with his, it was no wonder he found himself dreaming of her!</p><p>While Harold refused to call it love, even he had to own that he felt more for the librarian than abject lust. He <em>liked</em> Marian Paroo. He liked her so much that he had even admitted it to her a time or two in their acquaintance. He liked her so much that he was going to take her to the footbridge, as if he was courting her like a proper gentleman with sincere intentions.</p><p>He didn’t bother asking himself if he liked her enough to stay in River City for keeps. Because even in the midst of his increasingly muddled feelings, he never forgot that he couldn’t stay, no matter how badly he wanted to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pretty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The Summer girl is pretty. If she wasn’t pretty she wouldn’t be a Summer girl. She wears a pretty girl’s dress, has a pretty girl’s teeth, and puts on a pretty girl’s smiles. She also has a dimple or two to add to the picture. She is usually plump, but not stout; well formed, but not rotund. The young man who pays for her strawberries and cream, and takes her to picnics where they play Copenhagen [a game where the boys chase the girls and claim a kiss] is always proud of her. The Summer girl never gets soiled or looks dirty. She even manages to keep her back hair in good shape after a hugging match.<br/>
~</em> <em>The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, third body paragraph</em></p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Summer 1912</em>
</p><p>Marian Paroo hated being pretty.</p><p>As a little girl, she adored being pretty. Being pretty meant that she always got kindly smiles from strangers and a free lollipop from the nice man behind the counter at the corner store every time Mama took her shopping. It meant that the fancy grownup ladies who came to tea cooed over her charms and paid her several compliments, and that the other kids always wanted to play with her. It meant that teachers sat her near the front of the class and praised her work, and that she could get away with saying pert remarks other children couldn’t.</p><p>As a teenager, being pretty became a little less fun, especially when her body started to take on the curves of womanhood. It meant that she always had willing partners at dances and that her peers wanted her to be their friend, which was nice. But it also meant that some girls mistreated and excluded her out of jealousy, and that she got wolf-whistles from the more rough-and-tumble boys who loitered at the corner store. Sometimes she got wolf-whistles from men old enough to be her Papa. And when her Papa sadly and regretfully warned her exactly what those men wanted from her, she was embarrassed, disgusted, and utterly aghast. For the first time in her life, being pretty felt like a sin.</p><p>When Marian moved to River City with her family as a grown woman, being pretty became unbearable. It meant that men openly ogled her as she passed by them on the street and that their wives glared at her with murder in her eyes – as if it was <em>her</em> fault they married scoundrels who couldn’t keep their leers to themselves! It meant that men openly propositioned her when they <em>weren’t</em> with their wives or girlfriends. It meant that Mrs. Shinn and her ladies spread malicious gossip that she was a shameless and brazen hussy whenever she paid perfectly proper visits to her dear Uncle Maddy.</p><p>Worst of all – it meant that when she was accosted and very nearly violated in the library by Ed Griner before she dissuaded his advances with a well-placed kick, she told absolutely no one what happened. She knew she would be blamed for what he tried to do to her. Because she was pretty.</p><p>After that incident, Marian briefly attempted to be ugly in the hopes they’d leave her alone. She wore dresses in colors that didn’t flatter her and cuts that made her look like a frumpy matron. But it didn’t stop the men from bothering her, not a bit. The ladies started saying nasty things about her dismal fashion sense in the same breath they continued to call her a scarlet woman. And she had to endure plaintive sighs and gifts of provocative gowns from her own mother! Since she genuinely loved pretty clothes, it hurt not to dress as finely as she knew how. So the librarian decided that since she could not win no matter what she did, she may as well wear what she pleased. She still hated being pretty, but her impeccable wardrobe was the armor she desperately needed to hold her head high and proud, no matter what <em>they</em> said about her.</p><p>By the time Harold Hill walked into her life, Marian Paroo hated men just as much as she hated being pretty. The only males she admired were the great men depicted in her books of literature and history – that is to say, they were either dead or fictional characters – the only men in whose company she had ever felt completely safe were Papa and Uncle Maddy, and the only man she ever dreamed about romantically was her imaginary white knight. And she was very careful never to forget that white knights didn’t really exist.</p><p>Harold Hill was certainly no white knight. From the moment he followed her home, she knew exactly what he was and what he wanted from her, and she despised him for it. But he also made her cheeks flush, her knees tremble, and the pit of her stomach roil with those dangerous butterflies. No man had ever affected her this way before – at least, not physically.</p><p>And the more the would-be music professor pursued her, the less certain she became as to his true feelings. To be sure, he wanted to bed her without making her any promises, just like every other man she’d ever met. But no other man had gone to such lengths to ingratiate himself with her mother, or to make her beloved little brother so happy. No man had gotten the school board to stop feuding or the townspeople to dream bigger than their prosaic existences (she had tried to do the same thing with her library, but no one trusted her the way they did him). He had even gotten the ladies to read her books and stop spreading nasty rumors about her! And when he made it crystal clear he was pursuing the librarian, the other men finally left her alone. Even at his boldest, he never denigrated her the way other men had – she almost appreciated the veneer of gentility in which he couched his attempted seduction.</p><p>Harold Hill may have been a cad at heart, but he had gotten River City to accept her. Treat her with respect, even. And as their acquaintance deepened, she suspected that the music professor actually liked her cleverness and gumption just as much as he appreciated her physical attributes. When she saw the way his gaze lingered fondly on her as they matched wits (all the other men were intimidated or irritated by her intelligence), and the way that he seemed to favor her company above every other woman in River City who made cow’s eyes at him, she remembered the travails of Jane Eyre and her anguished cry to Mr. Rochester – “If God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!” – and she was grateful for the beauty she had been granted by Providence. If she hadn’t been pretty, he wouldn’t have looked twice at her. But then again, no man would have, and she would have been just as lonely a spinster as she was now.</p><p>So how could she help falling in love with the man who helped her remember that her beauty was a precious gift? Because for the first time since she was a little girl, Marian was thrilled that she was pretty.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cheap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>The Summer girl is not very expensive. Her wishes are few and cheap. A row on the river now and then, an occasional buggy ride, a plate of ice cream on a warm evening and an escort to a picnic about once in two weeks nearly sums up her wants. Being only a summer girl, she does not expect those presents and that devotion that belong to the regular every-day-in-the-week and twice-on-Sunday-all-the-year-round girl. The Summer girl is more like some luscious fruit that comes only for a time and is gone for the year, but it is peculiarly sweet while it lasts.<br/>
~</em> <em>The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, fourth body paragraph</em></p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Summer 1912</em>
</p><p>The first time Harold Hill told the truth, it wasn’t to Marian Paroo. It was to her little brother – the sad, sullen, and fatherless boy who reminded him so much of himself as a kid. And not only did the conman speak honestly to Winthrop, he did it without razzle dazzle, equivocation, or attempted justification of his actions.</p><p>He couldn’t lead a band. He was a big liar. He was a dirty rotten crook.</p><p>But the truth wasn’t entirely horrible: there was always a band. And to his astonishment, even Marian believed this. After she explained so eloquently to the disillusioned boy about how the lights, the colors, the cymbals, and the flags came alive in the way they all walked around that summer – really, he couldn’t have put it better! – Harold realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time: she was the only woman who’d ever seen him for what he truly was, she liked what she saw, and he would do anything to keep her in his life.</p><p>So he stayed. And the second time he told the truth, it <em>was</em> to Marian: he got his foot caught in the door, and he loved her.</p><p>As Harold held the woman he loved and waited for the irate mob to come collect him, his heart thumped wildly in his chest like a booming bass drum. And it wasn’t just because he had Marian in his arms, though she was soft and warm and he ached for the romantic rendezvous he wasn’t going to get to have with her tonight. His heart pounded because he’d never told the unvarnished truth to anyone once he became an out-and-out crook. Up until this moment, he’d dealt solely in verisimilitude, even with his right-hand man Marcellus Washburn.</p><p>Though Harold found himself at an alarming loss for words, the Scottish ballad <em>In the Gloaming</em> inexplicably came to mind. He both hated and loved that song, as it was bound with sweet nostalgia and bitter regret for him – it was a smash hit when he was a little boy, and his mother used to croon it to him in her dulcet voice whenever he couldn’t sleep. After he grew up and realized that she was singing about his lost father, he deliberately banned the melody from his conscious thoughts. While it was all he could think of now, he refused to sing the lyrics aloud, though they ran inexorably through his mind as he hummed the tune softly in Marian’s ear.</p><p>
  <em>In the gloaming, oh my darling<br/>
When the lights are soft and low<br/>
And the quiet shadows, falling,<br/>
Softly come and softly go<br/>
When the trees are sobbing faintly<br/>
With a gentle unknown woe<br/>
Will you think of me and love me,<br/>
As you did once, long ago<br/>
In the gloaming, oh my darling<br/>
Think not bitterly of me<br/>
Though I passed away in silence<br/>
Left you lonely, set you free<br/>
For my heart was tossed with longing<br/>
What had been could never be<br/>
It was best to leave you thus, dear,<br/>
Best for you, and best for me<br/>
In the gloaming, oh my darling<br/>
When the lights are soft and low<br/>
Will you think of me, and love me<br/>
As you did once long ago</em>
</p><p>Somehow – he didn’t quite know why – Harold surmised that Marian was familiar with this song, even though it came out before her time. And she certainly seemed to know it, as she let out a sorrowful gasp and held him even tighter once he started serenading her.</p><p>While Harold savored what were likely to be his last unscathed moments with the woman he loved, he reflected on just how much time, energy, and money he’d spent wooing both her and River City this past summer. He’d loitered in the streets around the library and Paroo home for countless hours whenever he wasn’t drumming up business. He’d searched for roses and other trinkets that would make the librarian smile instead of boosting his social credibility at public assemblies. He’d bought a pricey pocketknife for Winthrop and took him on fishing trips. He’d kicked his heels up almost exclusively with Marian in the high school gymnasium and Madison Park pavilion. He’d played matchmaker for the town’s youth with the genuine and kindly interest of a benevolent father-figure. Most damning of all – he’d paid for lavish ice creams and phosphates for Tommy, Zaneeta, and Marian that were left unfinished. Never had he invested so many of his own resources to win a woman and her town over. And he was about to pay an even higher price for Marian: his freedom.</p><p>As frightened as Harold Hill was about taking this great gamble, it would be well worth the expense if it paid off. Because he loved, liked, and wanted Marian Paroo. He’d never found a woman that evoked such potent longing in his body, heart, and soul. While he didn’t know how in heaven’s name he was going to get through his upcoming reckoning intact, he knew with absolute certainty that he’d never find a woman like her anywhere else. If he played his cards right, he’d get to hold her like this not just in the summer, but in the spring, fall, and winter, too. And so the would-be music professor stood with his arms steadfastly around the librarian, even as the angry shouts of the swindled townspeople drew ever closer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Harold realizing “three fundamental truths at the exact same time” was a shout out to Satisfied, one of my favorite songs from the musical Hamilton.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Conclusion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>He had passed through the chummy stage, the brotherly stage, even the cousinly stage, and he had now reached a point where all feeling of relationship ceases, and where the desire for relationship begins. The little sprite was going home. The rolling waves would resound no longer to the music of her voice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Kitty–don’t let it be good-bye. Don’t say it’s all over. I love you, Kitty. You’re not only a summer girl, are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But, Harry, you only asked me to be a summer girl.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know, dear, but now I ask you to be something else.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sprite laughed and shook her head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Too, late, old fellow,” she murmured–“too late! Jack Hilton asked me to be his all-the-year-round girl, and I have consented. You’ve had what you asked for, Harry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>~New Castle [PA] Herald 27 July 1909: p. 7, conclusion</em>
</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>I’m dedicating every day to you<br/>
Domestic life was never quite my style<br/>
When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart<br/>
And I thought I was so smart<br/>
~Aaron Burr in Dear Theodosia, from the musical Hamilton</em>
</p><p>XXX</p><p>
  <em>Summer 1914</em>
</p><p><em>What a beautiful afternoon</em>, Harold Hill happily thought to himself as he surveyed his newest hunting grounds.</p><p>The most gorgeous woman he had ever seen stood directly in his line of sight, wearing a winsome pale blue gown edged with white lace and navy blue ribbon. A matching girdle surrounded her slim waist and was tied in a charming bow at the front. As a further mark of her impeccable fashion sense, she had paired this becoming ensemble with the smartest little white lace-up boots that accentuated her trim ankles.</p><p>At first, the music professor was content to sit on his bench and merely watch this lovely sight, as he had just polished off a filling home-cooked dinner and was greatly enjoying the warm breezes coming off the large lake in the nearby vicinity. But when the lady tilted her sweet face upward and inhaled the perfumed summer wind with a look of pure pleasure, he <em>had</em> to intervene.</p><p>Standing up and approaching the shoreline, Harold drew upon his other favorite ruse for making the acquaintance of a beautiful woman: “Pardon me, miss – do you have the time?”</p><p>Marian turned toward him with a saucy smile – she knew his little game, and enjoyed playing it just as much as he did. Arching an eyebrow at him, she retorted, “Did you forget your watch <em>again</em>, Mister Hill?”</p><p>He caught her hands in his just before they could teasingly swat him. “Yes – and I did so on purpose, <em>Missus</em> Hill.”</p><p>Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Just so you could accost me?”</p><p>He gave her a look of mock-admonishment as he lifted her hands to his lips. “Well… I prefer to think of it as <em>flirting</em>.”</p><p>“Mmm,” she dreamily agreed as his mouth lingered over her fingers. If they had been in an out-of-the-way alcove, he would have pulled her to him for a kiss that left both of them breathless. But as they were in public – though no one was standing <em>too</em> close by – he only chanced a few gentle nibbles before lowering her hands to a more respectable position.</p><p>“I’d like to take a stroll with you around the lake right now, Madam Librarian,” he said in a low voice. “<em>Alone</em>.”</p><p>Marian looked positively giddy at the invitation, but cast a concerned glance at the blanket Mrs. Paroo was sitting on and responsibly demurred, “Are you sure Mama will be all right managing the twins all by herself out here? Winthrop is busy playing with the other boys, so he won’t be of much assistance.”</p><p>Harold nodded confidently. Though their daughters weren’t yet walking, they had become swiftly and sometimes terrifyingly mobile on their hands and knees, so the music professor used his ingenuity to fashion a portable travel pen out of tent poles and canvas that could be easily assembled and disassembled as needed. The mechanically-minded Tommy Djilas had made a few canny refinements to this design, and it ended up working beautifully for its intended purpose – try as they might, the twins couldn’t figure out how to escape their corral. When River City’s mothers witnessed this toddler pen in action, they immediately clamored for the manufacture of these contraptions, so the music professor and his assistant were currently in the process of getting their design patented and produced.</p><p>Although she was not fully in earshot, Mrs. Paroo laughed as if she knew exactly what they were talking about. “Go on and enjoy yourselves, me dears! The babies are all tuckered out and they’ll be down for at least the next hour or two. Just make sure you’re back in time for the fireworks display – Mayor Shinn says it’ll be our finest Fourth of July spectacle yet!”</p><p>They didn’t need to be told twice. After giving an appreciative nod and smile to her mother, the librarian laced her arm through the music professor’s and they immediately set off in search of a bit more privacy. Given that it was late afternoon just before dusk – Harold never did get the time from his wife – he estimated they had at least two or even three hours in which they could canoodle to their hearts’ content.</p><p>While they had been released from their parental responsibilities for the time being and could fully revel in being a man and woman in love, Harold couldn’t help thinking both fondly and worriedly about their adorable girls, even as he spirited Marian away to one of the many little alcoves that lined the lake. He was a devoted father now, and shared his wife’s concerns about the security of their precocious daughters. It was simply amazing, the things they got up to when he and their mother turned their backs for just a few moments! Just last week, he’d caught Penny trying to eat an enormous brown spider – and if it hadn’t been on the other side of the window pane, she would have succeeded in doing so, as her little rosebud mouth was pressed vigorously against the glass and grunting in frustration at the inexorable barrier that prevented her from accessing this tasty treat. Alarmed, Harold had swooped over and scooped her up in his arms, while Marian had simply laughed and reassured him that it was perfectly normal behavior, as she witnessed Winthrop attempting similar antics when he was that age.</p><p>Thankfully, Mrs. Paroo, for all her indulgence as a doting grandmother, was more than capable of looking after rambunctious children like Penny and Elly and seeing that no harm came to them. So Harold relaxed and turned his thoughts to the heated interlude he’d been looking forward to sharing with Marian all day long.</p><p>In the two years since the music professor and librarian first met, they’d stolen so many delightful moments together at concerts, parades, town assemblies, the annual summer picnic in Mr. Madison’s rose gardens – and Harold was once again slated to take Marian to the Fireman’s Ball in September. She was going to wear a different gown this year, but in the same deep vivid reddish-pink color he since learned was called cerise. To his mind, this brilliant hue was the perfect compromise between red and pink, and so had become his favorite shade to see her in. Today, she wore pale blue and looked no less beautiful in it, though she did wistfully remark that her gown was a little out of date when he complimented her on its loveliness that morning. His response to <em>that</em> nonsense was to take her in his arms and wordlessly reassure her of the enduring intensity of his desire for her no matter what she was wearing.</p><p>Once they reached a more remote area of the lake and their pace slowed to something a bit more meandering – the sense of heady anticipation was still one of his favorite parts of trysting with his wife – Harold suddenly became conscious that Marian was softly humming <em>In the Gloaming</em> as they wended their way among the increasingly narrow paths through the foliage. While this wasn’t too surprising – a recorded version of the song by John Lovering had just come out this year, which resurrected it as a smash hit – it wasn’t <em>quite</em> the tone he wished to set for their romantic rendezvous.</p><p>Bringing the librarian to a halt, he turned to face her. They hadn’t made it to an alcove yet, but they were alone enough that he could engage in a bit more intimacy without the intrusion of prying eyes. “I hope you know that I’ll never abandon you or our girls like <em>that</em>, my dear little librarian.”</p><p>“Of course I know that,” she said tenderly. “I suppose I could’ve chosen a better song for our stroll. But I’ve always been fond of <em>In the Gloaming</em> since my silly schoolgirl crush on the music teacher who sang it to our class – and I’ve loved it even more ever since <em>you</em> hummed it to me the night you thought we couldn’t be together.”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Harold said, brightening as the memory came rushing back to him. Once a path had been cleared for him to stay in River City, the intensity of that particular embrace was very pleasant to recall. Deciding to hell with the alcove, he pulled his wife into his arms right then and there, and was delighted when she just as enthusiastically nestled into his embrace. It had cost him so much to be with Marian – a public reckoning, a new business, a mortgage, a marriage – and it was well worth the price. The librarian was his all-the-year-round girl now, and her sweet surrender to him more than made up for her initial (and admittedly well-deserved) rejections of his romantic pursuit. More than that, he had learned the joy of wholly surrendering himself body, heart, and soul to her in return, as he had never, ever dared to surrender to any woman before.</p><p>After a long and languorous kiss that did indeed leave them both breathless, Harold buried his face in Marian’s now-disheveled curls and said as intimately as if they were engaging in pillow talk in the sanctity of their own bedroom, “I love you, Marian. I love you with everything I have and everything I am. I can’t believe what an arrogant ass I was, thinking that I’d only want you for one summer alone! I tell you, if any fella tries to make our daughters into summer girls, I’ll put him in a ditch so deep that his body will never be found.”</p><p>Marian laughed softly. “I don’t think that will be necessary, darling. Our girls will be able to fend off such fickle men handily, because we’ll teach them how to do so – just as my Papa taught me.”</p><p>“We certainly will,” Harold heartily agreed, before his mouth found hers again.</p><p>Though his words were fierce, his kiss was soft and sweet and gentle. It was Marian who deepened it into something far more clinging, Marian who pressed ravenously against him for more as they embraced beneath the long shadows of the pine tree they stood under. The unyielding façade she maintained in public all but collapsed as she kissed him wildly, and he clung to her just as eagerly and desperately as she did him, until they were both trembling and gasping and pulling each other into the nearest alcove. While they hadn’t been planning to make love in earnest, they enjoyed each other as fully and erotically as they possibly could without removing any clothing – which meant that he came in her hand when she unfastened his trousers and worked him over, and that the scent of her lingered on his fingers after he returned the favor by finding his way beneath the split-seam of her drawers for a long and delectable interval.</p><p>Fortunately, their habit of carrying several handkerchiefs allowed husband and wife to conduct the proper post-canoodling ablutions. It also greatly helped matters that there was a rivulet nearby for washing up in, and they had taken care to wear fabrics that did not wrinkle or stain too easily. So by the time the music professor and librarian returned to their family to watch the fireworks display, the only evidence of such outdoor shenanigans was their twinkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and bright smiles, which they wore so often in each other’s company that not even Mrs. Paroo was the wiser as to what exactly had occurred during their stroll together. While Harold was a man who was deeply and passionately in love and didn’t care who knew it, he would have submitted to tar and feathering before he besmirched his wife’s dignity. So his loaded but gentlemanly silences were yet another little delicious game he liked to play in order to keep everyone else guessing, which ensured that he and his lady could have their fun together and that her scrupulous and upright reputation would remain intact.</p><p>As Harold exchanged several fond and heated glances with Marian during the show, he reflected that summer really was the sweetest season for romance, and he avidly looked forward to not just the rest of this summer, but all the wonderful summers, autumns, winters, and springs they would continue to share together in the years to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you want to see what Marian's winsome pale blue gown looks like, you can check it out <a href="https://sarita29.livejournal.com/104339.html">here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>